


Marinette

by QueenlyPirate



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: ?? - Freeform, Amnesia, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Suspense, Temporary Amnesia, WELL HERE YOU GO, how do you properly use tags, marinettes gotta figure some shit out basically, omg no ones gonna read this lmaoooo, so drama, thats fine, these tags aren't selling shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 13:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11276568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenlyPirate/pseuds/QueenlyPirate
Summary: The last thing she remembered was Christmas lights.





	1. Chapter 1

The last thing she remembered was Christmas lights, bright reds and greens twinkling above her head, flashing quickly between the two as if they couldn’t decide which one to be. 

For some reason the memory made her heart ache.

She remembered a shadow had crept over her. She remembered something heavy falling onto her chest, the dull thud it made when it landed. She remembered a loud crack behind her. And she remembered hearing laughter  _ (her own?) _  and it echoing, echoing, echoing inside her head until there was nothing left _. _

She remembered darkness as it comforted her, taking her into its satiny arms, and promising sweet nothingness. She remembered being so tired and so sad and so  _ lonely  _ that the offer had felt too good to refuse. She had felt warm, so, so warm. And safe.

But now that darkness had betrayed her, abandoned her to a harsh piercing light that dug its sharp claws into her, inside her, and sliced at her innards.

Oh God, she  _ hurt. _

Her body was an anchor sinking in a frozen sea. Harsh, cold ice stabbed at her lungs and numbed her fingers. She tried to swim up and away from the freezing depths of the water, but her movements were slow and her hands were tied behind her back. The chains were too heavy, biting at her arms. The water was too strong.

If she gave in, maybe the darkness of the water would be as warm as the one before. Maybe its currents would sing her to sleep. Maybe it would whisper bedtime stories in her ear. Maybe…

But a harsh, shrill sound shook her of those thoughts and suddenly she wasn’t drowning at the bottom of the sea anymore. This world was bright and white, but that only made her heart frantic and she squeezed her eyes shut. And all at once the aching pain from before had turned into  _ pure agony _ . Someone was screaming. Water stained her face. 

A hand touched her cheek. 

Murmurs. Gentle words. Kind words. A finger brushed soft circles on her skin. A blur flew past her vision, vague shapes and dark colors. A smear of red sat in the corner of her eye.

It had come back for her!

It had come back to finish what it started. It had come back to hurt her. To kill her.  _It. Had. Come. Back._

She tried to curl into herself, tried to crawl away from what was trying to hurt her, but her back was pressed flat against something. And something else was tugging at her skin, pinching her thrashing limbs. She felt exposed. She  _ was _ exposed.  _ It could get her any moment. _ _ She had to transform. _  The shrill sound from before rang louder and faster and the screaming only got worse.

“…nette!”

A voice.

“…inette!”

Who was that? Who did it belong to?

“Is…okay?”

“…her still!”

She felt hands pushing her shoulders down, shoving her arms on either side of her. The screaming wouldn’t stop. It was going to hurt her. It was going to hurt her!  _ It was going to hurt her! _

She felt a pinch in her side.

And then the world was still and darkness consumed her again, hugging her close to its chest and murmuring comforting words.

* * *

 

She dreamt a black kitten had followed her home, sad, lonely, and looking for a place to stay. She fed it warm milk and smiled when its green eyes flickered to her. But why did she feel so annoyed?

She dreamt that the kitten had grown into a panther and stalked her as the distance between them grew larger and larger with her every step. She remembered the flash of its red eyes as it shed its fur and turned into a white lion. It was mad at her, how dare she abandon it, how dare she go.

It pounced on her but her dream shifted before she felt its claws.

* * *

 

“Marinette!”

Her eyes snapped open to the blinding world again. The stark whiteness struck her pupils, making her to squeeze her eyes shut before blinking them open, slowly this time. The first thing she noticed was the piercing sound of a scream. She thrashed her head looking for the source, but all she saw we unfamiliar faces hanging over her head. A petite woman with side swept bangs, a man the size of a bear, and an older man with worry lines and kind eyes. Who were they?

Had they come to hurt her?

As she watched them she realized the screaming had stopped and in the abrupt silence her throat felt raw. Her eyes were burning and her face was wet. Had she been crying? Screaming? The anxious expressions on the faces above her gave her the answer she needed.

“Marinette! You’re okay sweetie. You’re safe,” the bear man said softly. He brought his hand down to brush the hair falling in her face and she flinched. Hurt, he withdrew it and placed it on the shoulder of the small woman beside him. They watched with worried expressions, unsure of what to do.

“Mari, honey,” the woman said. “You’re in the hospital, but you’ll be fine. You’ll…the doctor…” she trailed off as her lower lip quivered. She bit down on it, trying to regain her composure, but the tears building in her eyes escaped her attempts and fell heavily down her cheeks. “You’ve,” she tried again. The woman reached for her hand but caught herself at the sight of her shrinking away. She turned to the older man instead, asking for help with her eyes.

“You’ve been asleep for awhile, Marinette,” he said. “Three days in fact.”

At that, the bear man released a quiet sob, placing a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from breaking down entirely. The woman simply placed her hand on his arm and rubbed small circles with her thumb, silently wiping away her own tears.

She watched the older man with wary eyes. She didn’t know what to say. For one, she realized, she didn’t know who she was or how she got there. All she had was a vague recollection of Christmas lights. How could she know about Christmas but not her own name? Who were these people to her? Who was she to _  herself? _

Her heart gave a desperate pound, making her aware of how  _ sore _ she felt.

The older man continued. “Your friend, Alya I believe? She found you near the feet of the Eiffel Tower. You were found with a severe head injury and chest wound–”

“What month is it?” she asked abruptly.

If her statement had confused them all, the older man hid it well. The bear man, however, furrowed his brows as he answered, “June, sweetie.”

That didn’t make any sense.

* * *

 

The first night she returned home with the bear man and petite woman (maman and papa she corrected herself) she immediately asked to sleep. Although hesitant, her parents had agreed. They showed her to her room and she couldn’t understand why she would have ever want to sleep in a room that didn’t even have a real door. But she made her way to the loft above as they slowly closed the hatch. She could feel their worry in the air like it was a dense fog, but she chose to pretend she didn’t notice. Instead, she whispered a quiet goodnight to help calm them and when she glanced behind her, she could almost make out their tiny smiles in the dark.

When she was close to sweet unconsciousness, something warm and soft brushed against her cheek. She opened her eyes to a red creature staring her right back at her and nearly let out a scream before it pushed her mouth closed and calmed her fears. 

“Shh, shh Marinette. It’s all right,” it whispered. “Oh, I was so worried about you! You’ve been gone for weeks and I had no way of getting close to–”

“Who are you?” she whimpered, nearly close to tears. 

Its eyes turned sad and it sank quietly to her pillow. “Oh, Mari…I’m Tikki. Remember?” 

“No, no I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything!” She hissed. 

She was tired of having people ask her that question. All the doctors and nurses, her parents, all those visitors (the people she had known only weeks before) who told her stories of a girl she had no memories of, and now this thing (Tikki it had called itself) were just too much. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes to stop the tears. She was sick of everyone’s disappointment in her. How would she have reacted as the girl with the memories? 

“Oh, none of that.” Tikki gently rest its (her?) hands over her fingers. “It's okay, everything will be just fine. No need to worry, shh, Mari, you’re okay.” She gently pushed her hands away from her eyes and settled right before her nose. “You’re a tough girl, a fighter! You’re strong and you’ll make it through this just like everything before it. Come on Marinette, show me a smile.”

She simply watched Tikki with tired, watery eyes. “How do you know everything will be okay?”

“Because it always turns out that way!” She replied joyfully. “I’m lucky, and so are you! You’re strong. You’ll regain your memories and you’ll be just fine.”

She thought back to the Christmas lights and the shadow that fell over her. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to remember.

That night, she went to sleep feeling better than she had in the past several weeks it took her to recover in the hospital, a warm and gentle creature helping keep her nightmares away.

It wasn’t until next morning she thought to be concerned about a talking animal existing outside of a fairy tale.  

* * *

 

The first day of school was hard. Everyone that had visited her in the hospital were all in her class, scattered in seats they had been occupying semesters before, and she couldn’t even remember where she had sat for, apparently, the last year and a half of her life. 

When she walked through the door that morning, a few minutes before the bell rang, to say the students were shocked would be an understatement. 

“Wow, Marinette, You’re actually on time for once?” the boy with the odd hairdo and big muscles practically yelled from his seat. He was laughing at his own joke and slapping the table when the small girl with pink hair smacked him upside the head.

“You idiot!” 

“What?”

The girl with pink hair side eyed her in a pointed look.

“Oh...right. Sorry, I forgot!”

That earned him another smack.

“Hey!”

While everyone else watched her either with sympathy or in discomfort, she couldn’t help but feel left out on the joke. Had the girl with the memories always been late? Was that who she was, the tardy girl? Did she not care about school? Did she go to bed late, wake up late, rush to school or walk?

How would she feel about school today? Today as in herself at this moment and not the girl before her.

She had hoped she would like it, but by the end of the week, she decided that the girl might have been on to something.

* * *

 

The boy who sat in front of her (Adrien she had to keep reminding herself) was unpleasant. While he had asked about her before and appeared worried the first day, on the days that followed he was completely…disinterested? She couldn’t quite peg his character.

Sometimes he would crack a joke that felt a little too mean spirited for her taste with his partner (Nino, the boy who liked bubbles and music) or turned to her and grinned. But other times he stayed turned to the front of the class all day, completely rigid and unmoving aside from the pen in his hand taking notes.

She found herself watching him more than paying attention to the actual lesson. The girl beside her (Alya, her best friend and owner of the ladyblog (she had to check out the website when she got home from her first day (she didn’t really know whether or not to believe it was real until Tikki confirmed it and pointed out that she was a talking creature and really, she couldn’t deny the whole superhero thing after that))) was actually happy with her watching the boy (Adrien! she chided herself). She said that she had always watched him during class and had a habit of going all head-over-heels over him for hours without realizing what was happening around her.

 She didn’t know what to think of that.

* * *

 

“Marinette!”

After a month or two, she had grown used to being called that, though she still didn’t quite feel like the girl everyone remembered. Sometimes she got glimpses, very small ones, of the people in her class. Alya had found her textbook one time. Alix had a broken watch. Chloe was a fan of Ladybug (no one had seen Ladybug in months).

Never anything about Adrien, however.

Never anything about the girl.

“Marinette!” the voice called again, closer this time.

_ Oh. _

She turned around quickly, about ready to apologize for not responding, before crashing straight into something solid and falling to the floor.

“Well,” the voice said from above. “At least you’re still clumsy.”

She opened her eyes to see the boy, Adrien, standing in front of her. He had gotten increasingly less friendly over the past two months. He seemed bitterer about something and the bags under his eyes had grown darker. She wondered if he had always been like that. If so, she thought, the girl with the memories had bad taste.

She frowned at him and lifted her hand. “Are you going to help me up or are you just gonna stand there?”

He shrugged and snatched her hand, tugging her harshly. She nearly ran into him from the sheer force of it and she couldn’t help but glare at him harder. What had the girl seen in him?

“Jerk.”

His grin only grew wider, something in his eyes flashing. “Is that how you talk to a classmate who’s trying to help jog your memory?”

“People have been trying for months and I can’t say I recall you ever putting in any effort.”

“Do you really ‘recall’ anything anymore?”

That absolute dick.

“Do me a favor and get lost. I don’t need to remember someone like you anyway. I’m sure you were just as horrible then as you are now.”

“Hmm. That’s where you’d be wrong, princess,” he sneered. “I was actually quite the saint if you would believe me. It was almost sickening really.”

_ Princess. _

Something about the nickname tickled a corner in the back of her mind. Where had she…when had she heard that before?

“Well, I  _ don’t  _ believe you. Now, just, leave me alone!” She turned on her heel and was nearly out the door when she felt something grip her wrist tightly. Not very gentle was he?

“Wait!” 

He spun her around abruptly and shoved something in her face, something soft tickling her nose.

“Get that out of my face,” she said shoving at his hands.

“It’s supposed to help now look at it,” he hissed.

She glared at him before looking down at the–derby hat?–in his hands. It had a feather motif, the top black and shimmery like a raven, the larger feather white like a pigeon’s. It was well crafted, very clean and professional. How was it supposed to help?

She raised her eyebrow at him.

“You made this for one of the contests my father held last year but-” his sneezes cut him off but he didn’t bother completing his sentence, biting his lip as he looked at the hat like it had just kicked a puppy. No wait, she thought, he had probably done that himself. The hat must have done something much worse then, she decided. 

He glanced at her and opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but shut it quickly. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he stayed silent.

She was surprised he had the decency to stop talking. 

She knew the girl with the memories had been a seamstress or a fashion designer of sorts. Fashion savvy really. But she hadn’t touched the sewing machine sitting in her room since she got home from the hospital. She dusted it every now and then, feeling somewhat sad for the girl who had probably used it everyday.

But the more she looked at it, the foggier her mind became. She couldn’t recognize it, couldn’t really even see it anymore she had been staring at it for so long. 

“Here,” he said as he turned it upside down and pointed to something near the brim. 

‘Marinette’ in cursive letters. In her handwriting. Finally, something that could physically link her to the girl!

She had tried for hours at opening the box that supposedly held her diary and journal according to Alya, but with no luck. She couldn’t remember where she had placed the key and for some reason Tikki wouldn’t tell her where it was.

“Well, that’s definitely my handwriting,” she finally said after a few minutes.

The boy sighed, frustrated. “That was supposed to work,” he murmured to himself.

Well it hadn’t.

She took a step back. “So…thanks for trying, I guess.”

He frowned, watching her hard as if he was studying her.

She frowned back. “You’re still a jerk though,” she huffed.

And then she walked out the front doors of the school and didn’t look back until she made it to her room. Something blinked in the corner of her eye and she turned to the circular window of her bedroom. Something was flashing outside, a broken stoplight at the end of a street. Stuck on red she realized. 

She walked over to the sewing machine and wiped it off with the damp rag she had gotten from downstairs.

Maybe sewing would help her remember. She tapped the white plastic thoughtfully.

* * *

 

In her dreams the white lion haunted her, watching her from afar but never leaving her. If she strained long enough, she could hear it growling at her in an odd pattern, a feeling of urgency.

But it had attacked her once, so she didn’t want anything to do with it. She looked forward and never glanced back.


	2. Chapter 2

Apparently, she had affected a lot of lives as the girl from the past. The girl had been someone much more important than she had originally thought.

At first she had assumed all the visitors had simply felt like they had had to, people who had known her as a classmate and just dropped by as an obligation. But, no. They had known the girl, they had all been her friends.

Marinette.

The girl. The one who had apparently loved sewing, Adrien, and her friends and family. The girl who could trip on nothing but air and once designed the cover of Jagged Stone’s latest album. The girl who was quiet in the beginning of the school year last year, the one who finally stood up to Chloe, the one who had almost ruined Max’s dream, the one who tried to console Alix, the one who ran after Mylene.

Well, that was what people had told her anyway. She could barely even remember all the names of her classmates on her good days.

She found herself teasing Chloe that way, constantly pretending to have forgotten her name. It was fun and it made the class laugh.

Sometimes, in the first few weeks of her return, she had felt them watching her, waiting for the girl they knew to finally come back and greet the entire classroom with some kind of grand statement. Something like ‘here I am, back to normal!’ or ‘it was a joke the whole time, got you!’ But as time passed, they stopped looking, they stopped waiting. And, not to say they grew distant, they all seemed to have lost hope of reuniting with that girl and eventually their eyes seemed to look past her.

They still tried to include her when the class messed around at lunch, still explained some inside jokes, but their smiles always had a slight downward curve to them, awkward and a little impatient.

When she had first mentioned her vague memories to the others, about small things that had happened to them, she soon realized that it wasn’t enough. Once they knew they were there, it was almost like their impatience and longing took over them. They wanted more. They wanted their friend back.

Whenever she acted similarly to the girl, they would tell her, patting her on the back like she had scored the winning goal or won the Nobel Peace prize. She could never tell whether she was acting as herself or as the girl she had been. She didn’t know which side was winning. Some days she hoped it was the girl, others, she hoped it was her.

She felt guilty most of the time for not being able to remember. Seeing the disappointment in their eyes when she couldn’t remember a conversation from months ago. 

But Alya and Nino helped. At least __ they still believed in her. They were the only one’s who didn’t make her feel guilty for not remembering everything instantly. They were patient with her, telling her stories about the silly situations they got themselves into. Alya even told her about the time the girl had actually stolen Adrien’s phone.  _ Stole _  it.

(She hoped she wouldn’t wind up in the same situation one day.)

Most of the time, she even felt like she didn’t have to remember in their presence. They told her time and time again that even if she never regained her memories, they would love her all the same. Even though she had forgotten, she was still their friend. Who she was and what she valued hadn’t changed.

She was happy about that.

* * *

 

When she finally figured out that the talking animal was the one who was, in fact, the very thing that turned people in superheroes, she could have screamed (she almost did).

Apparently the girl had been even  _ more _ important than she had originally thought. A superhero.  _ Ladybug _ , the superhero.

When she asked Tikki to transform her a week later, Tikki outrightly refused.

“It’s too soon Marinette! You won’t like what happens next and I don’t want you to get hurt,” she stated as she zipped around her, worrying her hair and clothes. “I love you too much to let you get hurt. I can’t allow it.” She pressed herself against her cheek and nuzzled it.

She gently tugged her friend away and held her in her hand.

“But Paris needs their hero again,” she pointed out. She wasn’t entirely sure why she felt so strongly about this, but there was something in her gut telling her she needed to do this. It would help her remember. It would  _ have _  to. Nothing else was working. “People are worried about her, they don’t even know where she went!”

“But there haven’t been any reports of Akuma victims either. They have to understand that at least.”

“Then that has to mean that whatever makes them is plotting something big!” She was nearly yelling now. She  _ needed _ to do this, she  _ needed _ to be Ladybug. If Marinette had lost her memories, maybe Ladybug hadn’t. She had to cling on to this hope. She had to do this for everyone. For the girl. For herself.

Tikki watched her for a long time before she flew away to her hiding place.

She felt her shoulders sag only to instantly perk up when she saw Tikki come back.

“Here,” she said as she offered her a pair of plain earrings. “Take these.”

“And they are…?”

“They’re what transform you into Ladybug.”

“I thought you did that?”

“Well, I do that too,” she giggled lightly. Although her smile was wide, Tikki’s eyes were troubled.

Choosing to ignore her friend’s concern for the time being, she reached for the earrings. “So you work together? Okay, then.” She quickly put them in and eyed the talking animal in front of her. Although Tikki was sweet and she absolutely adored the animal in front of her, she couldn’t help but wonder. “…What are you?” She finally asked. She had been meaning to for awhile now, but for the longest time she couldn’t find a way to bring it up. Why did the girl have a talking…pet? Why could she talk when no other animal could. How could she fly without wings? Why was she a secret?

“I’m a Kwami. I have magic and I give you powers,” she shrugged. “To put it simply. Are you sure about this, Marinette?” The worry in her eyes only increasing.

“I’ll be fine, promise,” she reassured her with a small smile. “Will that be enough? Do I need to know anything more?” She hadn’t planned on fighting anyone, she just need to  _ be _  Ladybug for a little while. Being should be enough. At least she hoped so.

“You use your yo-yo to get around the city, though I hope you don’t go too far or get too adventurous. The first time you learned, you got completely tangled up with–” she covered her mouth hurriedly as if she hadn’t meant to say that. “It took you some time to figure it out, just be careful. You have ‘lucky charm’ as a power to help you through any sticky situation and you have the ability to cleanse an Akuma.”

She knew the animal (Kwami!) had been keeping the girl’s life as Ladybug a secret. Though, whether it was for her own sake or for the girl’s, she wasn’t quite sure. Maybe Tikki had been holding back so she could remember for herself, maybe the Kwami was protecting her like she had told her. Maybe she didn’t want her to be Ladybug anymore.

The thought stung so she quickly pushed it away. No time for that.

“Okay, so don’t stray too far or get cocky, and I have two powers. _  Anything _ else?”

“To transform, all you have to say is ‘spots on.’”

She hugged the Kwami against her cheek. “Thank you, Tikki. I just–I have–I need to do this,” she finished.

“I know,” her friend sighed. “Just be careful.” She kissed her lightly on the cheek.

“I will,” she said, smiling. “Spots on!”

* * *

 

Moving around as Ladybug was both freeing and difficult. On one hand, she could go anywhere she wanted. On the other, she had to fumble her way to get there. 

But the sound of wind rushing past her ears, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and the strain on her aching muscles made her feel more alive than she ever had. It was worth it in the end, all the tangles in her yo-yo, all the times she landed on her knees, and even every time she nearly missed a ledge.

Although the wound she had received on her chest still acted up every now and then, it seemed to be harder to ignore when she leapt from building to building. The throbbing pain feeling as if it was coming from inside her heart. She had to take a break, at least a minute to get a few good breaths in before she continued.

Choosing to land on a rooftop well out of site from the public, she immediately hunched over and held her knees for support. Her breaths were heavy, probably heavier than they should have been she thought to herself. Although, the girl  _ had _ had help from Tikki  _ and _ she had been doing it for months too. She on the other hand, had little to no experience with being a superhero. 

Maybe she should call it quits for the day. It’s not like she had regained any of her memories anyway, even though she was so  _ sure _  something should have worked. She reached for her earrings and rubbed them, considering the idea.

Sighing, she opened her mouth to release her transformation when she heard a noise. She whipped around, searching for what had caused it and spotted something in the corner.

“Hello?”

In the shadow of the doorway, gleaming red eyes watched her. The hairs on the back of her neck raised. She gripped her yo-yo tightly, ready to fight if she needed to. 

She hoped she would be good enough to escape at the very least.

The figure in the shadows took its sweet time to step out into the soft light of the sunset, steel-toed boots catching the glare of the sun. The leg clad in white leather looked strong, but the body that followed looked stronger. She nearly took a step back knowing that she, the untrained superhero, would hardly have a chance at escaping it.

When its head finally left the shadows, she almost immediately recognized it. Blonde hair, straight nose, sharp eyes. Chat Noir. Only, this wasn’t him, Ladybug’s partner, no it couldn’t be. He was in white for one, and his eyes were red. A deep crimson.

The smirk cutting its way across his face did make her step back this time.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Ladybug herself. What ever happened to you, my prey?”

_ It had come back. _

She shivered as she thought back to her stay in the hospital. For the longest time she had thought something was coming for her. What that something was, she hadn’t been sure. But now…

“You’re not Chat Noir.”

“How observant of you!” he said in mock praise. He took a step closer to her, as if he was stalking his prey. 

He probably was.

As she watched him circling her, she couldn’t help the whimper that escaped. “You came back.” She bit her lip and hoped he hadn’t notice the shaking in her voice.

His ears perked up. “Oh?” the smirk that made its way to his face gave her goose bumps. “So you do remember? Well, my prey, as I’ve said before, the cat _ always  _ comes back.”

She furrowed her brows, hooking onto his question. How would he know if they had never seen each other out of costume? She watched him before deciding to ask. “How do you…?”

The smirked fell from his face. “Hmm, I’ll take that as a no,” he walked around her, eying her as he made a full circle around her. “No, your stance is completely off and your yo-yo has knots. No, you don’t remember yet.”

She glared at him. “How do you know I don’t remember anything?” she questioned, voice as hard as she could make it.

He looked at her hard before answering. “I know everything.”

She spread her feet to make her stance more solid, set her shoulders back, and raised her chin. “Who are you? Really? You can’t be Chat Noir.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, but nice try. I am Chat Noir, or  _ was _  anyway. I go by Chat Blanc Now.”

She took a step back away from him as he came closer. The distance between them had gotten uncomfortably shorter, him being only a few footsteps away.

“W-why are you doing this?” She finally asked. 

Damn, why did she have to stutter there…!

He laughed, voice like razor blades scraping concrete. “Oh, it’s no fun when you can’t remember.”

She glared. “I remember you hurting me.” And she did. She saw it clearly now, his hand gripping her neck, claws scraping her flesh, the way his fist came hurling towards her chest, her yo-yo dangling uselessly from his belt, the impact of the blow knocking her onto her back, her head smacking into concrete, a loud ringing in her ear as her vision blurred, distant laughter echoing in her head. It was the clearest image she’d ever had, the clearest memory.

Was it the girl’s or her own?

Or both?

“Ha! You’ve dealt harsher blows,” he sneered.

She frowned. “I wouldn’t hurt anybody,” she insisted. Although, she wasn’t entirely sure about that. She had to have hurt people to get rid of the akumas, or the girl had had to anyway. “…at least I don’t think so,” she muttered quietly to herself.

The Ladyblog had told her a lot about the girl’s superhero life. She had to have accidentally hurt someone right? It was only logical.

And then she saw Chloe dressed as Ladybug looking upset as she entered the elevator, her eyes angry. But she hadn’t been quick enough to hide the tears seeping through her mask.

She shook her head.

“It would be too easy to kill you like this,” he observed, eying her not as if he would pounce, but like a vulture waiting for its prey to finally collapse on itself. “You need to remember first. I’ll make sure of it.” 

He quickly snatched her hand and kissed it. She flinched.

“Until then, my prey,” he purred through a razor-sharp grin. And then he was gone, leaping out of sight before she even had a moment to process what had happened.

* * *

 

She had a dream that she was lost in a crumbling city, smoke from a distant fire leaving dark clouds in the sky. Her body hurt like it was burning from the inside and she couldn’t move even to shove away the chunk of stone lying uncomfortably underneath her head.

The white lion had found its way over to her, resting its large head on its paws as it watched her, tail flicking. It opened its mouth, teeth large and shining, but she closed her eyes before she felt it bite down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well there ya go ✌️✌️


	3. Chapter 3

She was annoyed. 

Actually, to put it plainly, she was absolutely furious with herself. She couldn’t believe she had handled the situation so poorly!  _ Unbelievable. _

She had let him walk all over her, had hardly even put up a fight. 

She was positively fuming in her seat when Alya walked through the door for their morning class.

“Girl, what’s going on with you today?” Her friend asked with a raised eyebrow as she placed her bag on their desk. 

“Nothing. Just peachy,” she said through clenched teeth. If anyone so much as looked at her funny she was going to smack them. She almost hoped Chloe would throw another one of her stupid hissy fits just so she could release some pent up rage.

She felt a nudge at her hip and remembered Tikki hiding away in her purse. Relaxing her shoulders and unclenching her jaw, she leaned forward and rested her head on her desk. She had been bringing her in her purse since she met with Chat Noir (Blanc. That asshole.), deciding that she may need her later should the cat ever rear its ugly head again.

“Sorry. I’m just — Just frustrated with myself,” she replied.

A warm hand rested on her shoulder and squeezed. “Marinette, you need to breathe and just go through life like you have been. Let your memories come, or don’t. Either way, you’re still  _ you _ in the end.”

Honestly, she loved Alya. A ridiculous amount in fact. But she could only just barely quell her rage enough to feel even a little touched. But she tried harder for her friend, tried to let gratitude overwhelm her for how supportive Alya is, tried to let a wave of appreciate wash over her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t working, so she shrugged and shut her eyes instead.

“How about we go to the movies Saturday?” 

Another shrug.

“We can invite Nino and Adrien…” she could practically see the smirk on her friend’s face burned onto the back of her eyelids.

Whipping up immediately and yelling “No!” a little too loudly, she quickly turned around her to offer an apologetic smile to the few classmates behind her. 

“Sorry. But...no. Please. I’m fine with Nino, just not Adrien.”

“Why not?” Despite his attitude, both Alya and Nino still seem to be unwilling to give up on him. And, yeah, she guessed it was similar to her situation, but at least she was still nice to them. (Ugh, she was such a hypocrite.)

She sighed.

“I know my mind’s been little messed up and all, but I can’t be the only one who thinks of him as a  _ jerk _ .” Her hands flailed wildly as she tried to get her point across, nearly slapping Alya on ‘jerk.’ “Sorry,” she said.

Alya shrugged it off then paused. “Well, he isn’t that bad. Wasn’t? You see he’s…I mean…if you look at it this way--”

Her friend sighed and shook her head, giving up. “No, you’re right. He hasn’t been himself since your accident. Nino and I just thought it was because he was worried about you, but lately…”

“His jokes are mean, he’s an arrogant brat, and looks like a Zombie.”

“Yeesh, girl. Tell me how you really feel,” she said laughing, caught off guard. “If you remembered what he used to be like and what you thought of him, you’d be shocked by what came out of your mouth.”

As she watched her friend double over with laughter, she couldn’t help but wonder what the girl had thought of him. What Adrien had been like.

“So why don’t you tell me?” She finally asked, almost whispered.

It took some time for her friend to calm down, but when she finally did, she looked up at her confused. She wiped a tear from her eye. “You mean I haven’t already?”

She shook her head. “You only talked about how I’d react to him. Never anything _ about _ him, really.”

“Well shoot. I’ll admit I’m kinda disappointed in myself.” She looked a little embarrassed, fiddling with her glasses and adjusting them on her nose, but there was remorse there too in the way her eyebrows scrunched together and how her lips pouted. “Where do you want to start?”

She knew exactly what she wanted to know. That is to say, everything. So why not start at the beginning? 

“How did we meet?”

* * *

 

She couldn’t believe it. He had been laughing just a few minutes ago, cheek resting on his knee and hair waving, caught in the breeze. His smile was small and thoughtful as he watched her do another series of flips with her yo-yo. He had been joking with her. 

‘You’re doing flipping great, Bugaboo.’

Then again...he had been a bit out of it. Not quite as enthusiastic, quieter. His eyes had been distant, like he hadn’t really been there in that moment. He smiled and laughed at all the right times, never missed an opportunity to make a pun, but it all felt so... _ mechanical _ in retrospect. She should have  _ noticed _ . She  _ should  _ have.

But the conversation had taken an abrupt turn. Suddenly, she was pouring her heart out about citizen-self being so insignificant and how she would never be noticed by her crush, how she would never be good enough for him and feeling as if something was clenching her heart and tearing apart at the same time and her breathing just wouldn’t slow down and then-

The look on his face had nearly crushed her. His tears cut sharp tracks down his face, leaving hot rivers in their place. His body curled into itself, hunched over like the world was going to strike him and this was his last attempt at protecting himself. The shaking of his shoulders sent the piercing knife deeper and deeper into her heart and she just couldn’t stand to see him like this. 

She reached out to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he jerked away. His face was hidden to her now and she didn’t know what to do, hand floating in limbo as she struggled to find a way to comfort him.

“Chaton…?”

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

She frowned. “What’s wrong Chat? You can tell me.” She placed her yo-yo to the side and rested her hand near his feet in hopes that he would reach for it when he was ready.

Somehow, her partner had managed to curl tighter into himself, head sinking into his knees, arms coiled around his legs. His ears pressed tightly back into his hair, tail crashing against the iron of the tower.

“I  _ told _ you,” he hissed, “I’m  _ fine _ .”

“Chat Noir.”

“Ladybug.” 

“Chat, please just tell me--”

He turned his head sharply, eyes peeking over his arm. “You want to know?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, but she nodded determinedly. He hid his face into his arms again and she realized she couldn’t tell what expression he had worn just then.

A shiver went down her spine.

“You’re so amazing and so…so  _ good _ ,” he bit it out almost like it was a curse, “There’s no way that anyone could ever be better than you and when your crush finally wakes up and realizes that, you’re going to leave me, because, honestly,  _ I’m _ the one who isn’t good enough. I’ll be all by myself in this and I can’t do it alone.” His voice was hoarse, raw. “Not again,” he whispered.

“Chat, of course you’re good enough! You’re the most amazing person I know. And I would never leave you!” She nearly yelled, feeling offended that he would ever think that about himself, about her, about anyone. “Cha- _ ton, _  you’re my best friend. We’re a team. I will  _ never _ abandon you just like I know you’ll never abandon me.” She slammed her fist into her hand for emphasis.

He laughed darkly. “Oh yeah, like  _ all _  those times you sacrificed yourself for me?” 

She was taken aback. 

_ How…how dare he?! _  That just wasn’t fair. His costume was  _ made _ to fight. She was the tactician, her whole gig was focused on plans and luck for goodness sake! 

But instead of voicing those thoughts, she took a deep breath and tried again.

“You  _ know _  I would risk my life for you. I do it everyday, you do it everyday, it kind of comes with the job description.”  _ Shit, that’s not right thing to say.  _ “Wait--no! That came out wrong. What I meant was it’s our job-- but that’s not the point-- I have to do it but-- no, wait! I try not to-- no, that’s not it either…I, me, we-- that is to say…!”   


He scoffed as she tried to recollect herself. Ignoring it, she cleared her throat as she fanned her face to let it cool. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “What I  _ mean _  is, even if it's what we’re  _ supposed _  to do, I would do it  _ anyway _  because you are  _ important _  to me. You’re my partner and I love you. I won’t ever leave you just because I happen to get a boyfriend.”

“You don’t know that,” he whispered hoarsely. His back was turned towards her now, shoulder blades jutting out sharply against his suit. His tail swiped back and forth against the iron, the buckled end scraping against the metal. 

The sound it made lifted the hairs of the back of her neck.

“But I  _ do _ _!”_  She insisted.

“You don’t!” He roared. And suddenly he was turned towards her, eyes flashing red. “You don’t know anything! How anything will happen! How can you just expect me to believe  _ you _ when you can’t. Even.  _ Trust. Me! ”  _

She couldn’t help it, she scooted back.

“Are you omniscient? Can you predict the future? Could you have predicted ever becoming a superhero?! What makes you think everything will be fine as if it's easy?"

* * *

 

It was weird walking to the movies with the only two people who believed she would regain her memories and the one who seemed like he couldn’t care less.

He kept his distance from her while simultaneously staying close and she couldn’t quite understand how he did it. His arm was draped over her shoulders despite how many times she asked him to remove it, yet he only ever spoke to Nino to the left of him. His fingers gripped her shoulder tightly. She suspected when she changed that night she would find bruises. In protest, she had reached for his hand every now and then and pinched the skin on the back.

After he’d dug his fingernails in twice, she had eventually given up, glaring at him and burning holes into the side of his face. 

(Maybe she’d find blood with the bruises, too.)

Alya had been too busy updating the Ladyblog to notice her pleading eyes. After all, once news got out that Ladybug had been spotted (she groaned quietly to herself at the unintentional pun) her friend had been practically glued to her phone, either to find out more news or to update the blog with said news. 

She was on her own and she wasn’t exactly strong enough to yank his arm off. Or she didn’t think so anyway. And if she tried to flip him over her shoulder like she had seen in videos of Ladybug fighting, she’d cause a scene. That was the last thing she wanted really, being so sick of attention, negative _ or _ positive.

“I just can’t believe this major scoop!” Her friend whooped beside her. “Ladybug, seen after months of absence!” Alya patted her back, almost a little too excitedly, as she finally looked away from the screen. “Maybe this’ll help you, yeah? If you get a glimpse of the badass-super-heroine Ladybug in action, you’ll figure out how the whole thing happened. I mean, you did have some pretty nasty injuries. They had to have been from an Akuma or  _ something _ .”

“Or something. Ladybug’s powers would have healed them,” she countered. “That’s the whole point of her powers, right? To fix things?”

Adrien scoffed beside her. “Please. Her power is to erase stuff. Wipe it away like nothing even happened.”

That was the first time she ever heard him say ‘please’ she realized. And it was sarcastic.

“Bit dramatic there, bro. And I thought you, like, totally worshiped Ladybug?” Nino said. 

“I used-”

“ _ I _  think,” Alya cut in, taking a few steps ahead to put herself between the two boys. “That  _ Marinette _  has a point. Ladybug heals the damage from the Akuma attacks. She’s just putting everything back the way it was. How it’s supposed to be.” Her friend gave Adrien a pointed look before coming back to her side.

“I gotta agree with Alya on this one, dude,” Nino said. “Ladybug’s cool. She’s just doing her job.”

Adrien glared down at the cobbled road, clicking his teeth, but didn’t say anything after. She felt uncomfortable with his sudden silence that she couldn’t even escape.

Her friends continued to discuss Ladybug’s powers as she watched him from the corner of her eye. The bags under his eyes had turned a dark shade of purple, his lips were chapped and dry as sandpaper, and his cheeks looked as if they had sunken in. His hair looked a few days too unwashed and she felt herself leaning away.

“What’s going on with you, Mr. Model? I thought you were supposed to be your dad’s golden child?” She cringed internally. Maybe that last part had gone too far. She should have considered holding back. There were lines no one should cross no matter how big of a jerk the person was. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

He laughed darkly, something echoing in the back of her head. “No, you’re right. No need to tiptoe around my feelings, Princess, not like you ever did it before.” 

There it was again, that stupid nickname. Why did it sound so familiar to her?

She continued to watch him in silence, causing him to finally look over at her and smirk. “Oh? No denial?”

“Why do you have to be such a prick?” 

He actually laughed at that, genuinely humored and completely caught off guard. “Are you for real?” He wiped at his eye.

In front of them, Alya and Nino had taken the lead, turning to smirk at her as they gave them privacy. Probably to hook them up. Or for her to figure out what the hell was wrong with this boy.

“Seriously, what’s your problem? Alya told me everything you know. You used to be a nice person, no matter how much I doubt that,” she said, muttering the last part under her breath.

“There it is again, your amazing tact.”

“Shut up,” she said as she rolled her eyes.

He smirked at that. “Life happens, relationships change, shit hits the fan.”

She furrowed her brows at that. “Is it your dad?”

He shrugged, avoiding her gaze.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

He let go of her shoulder and shoved his hands in the front pockets of his coat as he walked a little faster. She caught up to him easily.

“Maybe keeping everything bottled up is what’s causing you to act out.” Surprising herself, she reached out for his shoulder. 

He jerked away from her and glared. “And you think you can help me?”

“I know I can,” she said determinedly. 

He stopped and threw his hands out to either side of him. “You can’t even help yourself!” He shouted. She opened her mouth to argue, but he continued. “Look at you, you’re barely even a  _ shadow _  of Marinette!”

Her mouth slammed shut as she stared at him in shock.

“You hardly remember anything about your classmates, let alone yourself. Or  _ me _ for that matter!”

If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought the gloss in his eyes was from tears. 

“Do me a favor and don’t try to help me until you’re actually Marinette again.”

He stomped away in the opposite direction of the movies before she could move her legs again.

* * *

 

Sewing was a lot harder than she had originally thought. She couldn’t get the machine started for the life of her. Even threading the bobbin was near impossible. And she only knew sewing terms because she had tried Googling and binging how-to videos for the past hour. 

Thankfully, after one whole catastrophe and an entire spool of thread later, she had the thing up and running. But when it came to the actual sewing, she couldn’t sew a straight line even if she had the help of a master seamstress. Tikki had tried helping by holding the material steady for her, but that had done little to help. It took her jamming the machine for the third time that afternoon for her to finally give up.

“Ugh! I’ll never figure this thing out!” She slammed her head on her desk and groaned.

“Oh, come on Marinette. You’ll get it! It’s like riding a bike, you never really forget how. Sometimes you just have to struggle a bit before it comes back.”

“Are you sure about that last part? Sounds a little tacked on to me,” she whined. Maybe she should just hang out with Alya for the rest of the day, at least it would be more fun than this. Or maybe she should go and try talking to Adrien again. Ever since last week he hadn’t even looked in her direction. She sighed loudly.

Tikki huffed by her ear. “Stop acting so silly. You can do this, I  _ know _  you can!”

“Of course you know I can, you’ve seen me do it. The problem is  _ I _  haven’t seen me do it!”

Judging by the pressure on her cheek, she guessed Tikki was trying to roll her head over so she could look at her. “Let’s try it one more time,” she tried.

“No.”

“Marinette!”

She rolled away from the desk to frown at her. “I’ve been trying for  _ two hours _ now, Tikki. I don’t think it’s going to work.”

“Not with that attitude!” 

She would never admit it out loud, but she couldn’t help but find Tikki’s glare to be cute. Hopefully her friend couldn’t read minds on top of whatever else she could do. “Look, Tikki, I’m tired. Let me try something else. Maybe…” She glanced at her friend with a hopeful look in her eye. “Maybe if I could look through my sketchbook or my diary–”

“No.”

She huffed. “Why not? It’s been months now. Months!”

“You’re not ready.” She turned away as she crossed her arms.

“I’ve already transformed into Ladybug, what else do I have to do?”

“So much more!” Tikki snapped.

She shrank in her seat, watching with wide eyes. What was that supposed to mean? Was she not doing enough? Was she a failure? Was she not remembering fast enough? She was trying as hard as she could and  _ no one _ could tell her otherwise.

Tikki’s eyes softened at her. “Oh, Marinette, I’m sorry.” She drifted over to her and hugged her cheek. “It’s just that there’s a lot of experiences in there that you don’t remember yet. I just don’t want you trying to force yourself like that again. The first week of school had been so hard on you…”

Her shoulders sagged in defeat. She understood what Tikki was saying, but she was just so fed up with waiting for something to happen. So sick of relying on others to help her, to remind her of what happened and who she was in the past. Of who _  Marinette _  was  _ supposed _  to be.

Some days the thought of being a different person never crossed her mind, like she had suddenly become the girl again. She felt normal on those days, comfortable in her skin and able to talk to people no problem. Her friends responded positively to her then, laughing with her and including her in conversations as if she wasn’t the girl who had lost her memories.

But on other days…

“How much longer do I have to wait?” She finally asked.

“The time will come Marinette. Promise.”

She looked up at her friend with tired eyes for a long while before finally saying “Okay.”

In apology, the Kwami suggested asking her parents about the sewing. Maybe they could help her or find a teacher for her.

“Maybe some other time. I think…I think I’m just going to take a nap.” She rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her palms, the energy abruptly drained out of her. Who knew trying to regain memories could be so exhausting. 

Tikki nodded quietly before nuzzling her cheek again. “Okay. I love you, Marinette. You know that, right?”

She smiled. “I know, Tikki. I love you too.”

When she pulled her comforter over her shoulders and closed her eyes, she hoped for a dreamless nap.

* * *

 

She was tucked into something soft. 

It was warm and comforting and made her whole body vibrate. Her eyelids, heavy with exhaustion, felt thick and droopy like velvet curtains. With some effort, she sluggishly blinked them open, yet it was too dark to see anything. In the distance, she could hear the sound of a voice calling out a name.

“Marinette.”


	4. Chapter 4

They were both standing now, her partner stepping closer to her with each word. She had never seen him like this before, so hurt and upset. The knife buried in her chest felt as if it was hilt deep now and she could barely talk around the pain.

She had done this. She had done this to him.

“Chat--”

“Don’t interrupt me!” He snapped. “I’ve worked so hard to keep you safe, both of us safe! But you’re so quick to help  _anyone_  but me--” 

“They’re citizens!”

“But how can  _I_  protect them when you just feed me to the  _wolves_?!” he hissed.

“But you’re--”

“I try so hard every day! I try to be the perfect son! A good friend! To save everyone! I Try--”

Green. Eyes as warm as sunlight stared back at her. 

He reached out for her. “Ladybug, stop him--”

Red. As bright and glaring as siren lights.

Her blood ran cold. 

“How can you keep doing this to me?” His voice cracked, hoarse and quiet.

He stepped out of the shadows of the support beams and she gasped. Chat Noir was no longer Chat _Noir_. His suit was bleached a stark white from head to toe, glaringly harsh in the moonlit night.

“Who’s going to save me?!” He wailed.

Air shifted and shook, heating and cooling her suit simultaneously. She could feel the raw energy of his Cataclysm expanding before he could even finish saying its name.

She took a step back, hand stretched out in front of her. “What are you doing, Chat?”

“I’ve had enough,” he rasped.

“Chat…?”

“Enough!”

* * *

 

When she had finally worked up the courage to ask her parent’s about the sewing, they had been so excited, overjoyed, she’d even go as far as to say thrilled.

“You’ve started up sewing again?” Her mother nearly knocked over her teacup in excitement. 

“Um, yeah! I was hoping that it could help me remember a bit more.” The last part came out more as a question than she had meant for it to, almost like she had been asking them if it could work. Maybe she had been. Secretly hoping they would agree with her.

“That’s a great idea, sweetie,” her father said, hugging her tightly. After living with them for the past five months, she’d learned that he was an affectionate man. Easy to cry, too. It made him easier to love she realized, and she was grateful for it. Grateful for both of them, really.

“Do you know how I got started?”

“If I remember correctly, it was either your father or myself who had taught you,” her mother said. “At least when you started anyway,” she added on hurriedly.

He nodded. “You were so young and we only knew the basics. Well, your mother knew a little bit more.”

“Only a little bit,” she agreed.

“And later? How did I learn everything else?”

“Self-taught,” they replied at the same time.

She flopped onto the couch at that. _Great_. How was she supposed to remember now?

“Now, now Sweetie, it’ll be alright.” Her mother reached for her and gripped her shoulders. “Your father and I can re-teach you the basics and we can see where it goes from there.”

“You’re doing a great job, Marinette. You remember so much already, you can take it slowly.” Her father placed a warm hand on her head and rubbed her hair affectionately.

She smiled at them, soaking in all their love and returning her own with a grateful hug. 

She really did love them.

* * *

 

She dodged his fist and ducked to the left, rolling as she made her way to the opposite end of the beam. Reaching for her yo-yo to restrain him, she realized it wasn’t there and paused. She reached for it again, hoping beyond hope that it was there. Her hand grasped nothing but air. _Dammit!_ She searched the area to see if it had fallen but froze, the memory of her placing it to the side suddenly hitting her.

_Dammit, dammit, dammit!_

“What’s the matter, Ladybug? Can’t find your toy?” He sneered.

Her head snapped to the swinging splash of red dangling from his grip. She cursed.

“This isn’t like you Chat Noir. Please, give me back my yo-yo.” She lifted her hand, palm up, as a desperate attempt.

“Oh,  _my lady_.” He grimaced. “How unobservant of you. Can’t you see the white suit?” He gestured to his suit slowly like he was explaining something to a child. “I’m with Hawkmoth now. He and I suddenly found a common enemy--”

He curled in on himself, clawing at his throat. 

“Chat!” If it weren’t for the sight of his cataclysm still burning in his hand, she would have gone to him. Instead, she firmly placed her feet into a fighting stance, ready for any surprises. “Chat, let me help you.”

“Ladybug,” he pleaded. “Bell--the bell--” he hunched forward, hand tightening around the bell at his neck.

Her yo-yo was dangling limply in his hand, swaying with every spasm of his body. Now would be the time to take it.

It swung to the left.

But.

She watched as his whole body shook with his fight. _He was trying to fight it!_ And she should be _helping_ him, should be _doing_ something.

It swung to the right.

She set her eyes on it determinedly.

Getting her yo-yo back would do that.

She took a step forward.

The metal of his boots clanged loudly as he took a shaky step towards her, stopping her advance.

Unsure, she took a step back.

_Is he going to attack?_

“You have to…” he looked up at her with pleading eyes, green and kind and _Chat_.

She gasped then lunged for him. This wasn’t going to last, she could _feel_ it. It had to be now!

And then he frowned and straightened up, hand dropping to his side, and jumped over her easily as she made to tackle him. Shaking out his limbs, he cleared his throat and said “My apologies for that little interruption. How about we get back to the fun?” 

He dashed towards her, eyes radiating heat as he swiped for her, just barely missing as she jumped back. Ducking and sticking her leg out as he ran for her again, she quickly spun on her hands and kicked upwards at his chest. He stumbled backwards, body heaving as he gasped for air.

“…always hurting me,” he muttered angrily.

“Where are you Chat Noir? I know you’re in there, you can beat this! Come back, _please!_ ”

He snarled and leaped into the air, intending to land on her, but she was too fast and he landed in the corner instead with a crash. His body jerked as he spun around. Strong arms shook with raw fury, his Cataclysm only growing stronger as it waited.

She had to get her yo-yo back. _Quick._

* * *

 

He hadn’t spoken a word to her in a week and she hated to admit it, but it bothered her. Despite all efforts, that jerk still managed to worm his way into her head. Hell, she was even a different person at this point and she still cared for him.

She could feel the stares of her friends on her as she glared holes into the back of his head. But she was angry. She was upset! she was  _hurt_ . It had stung when he reminded her again that she wasn’t the girl that everyone had loved. It had  _hurt_  when he wouldn’t accept her help. Just because she couldn’t remember everything about the girl before her, didn’t mean she couldn’t help a friend out!

Friend…

She considered him a friend.

She frowned.

He didn’t deserve it.

She huffed and turned away from the unworthy distraction, deciding she would focus all her attention on something that  _did_  deserve her time of day.

* * *

 

It was her stupid decision to reach for it several minutes later when he was still recovering from his tumble that she found herself with her back pressed into the cold iron of the tower and a clawed hand at her throat.

“Not so strong now, are you?” 

She glared at him, heart pounding as she tried to find a way out of this situation.

How had things turned out this way? She could almost cry, but, no, she had to win this. For Chat and for Paris.

“But the real question is,” he continued. “Is who are you going to save. Me? Or yourself?”

And then she was standing with her back facing the soft rays of moonlight, body shaking as the cool air brushed past her, legs dangling over nothing. He grinned at her as he reared his Cataclysm back, and laughed when it landed squarely on her chest, knocking her off the support beam and into the cool air of midnight. 

A splash of red followed after her as she fell, fell, fell down towards the hard ground below. Laughter echoed in her ears, past the rushing of the wind, past the sound of her body connecting with concrete, past the fading light. 

Past her tears.

* * *

 

For the first time that week, she decided to be Ladybug again. Chat Blanc had yet to make a reappearance, so she figured she might as well get some more training in. She wouldn’t let that stupid cat think she was scared of him.

And it was a plus that Tikki was less against it than usual, which only made her time swinging across rooftops all the more enjoyable.

The sound of wind rushing past her ears drowned out her thoughts and let her be free for a moment. To be absolutely and solely focused on just the movements of her body and the strain of her muscles. 

It was nice, comforting even.

That is, until something kicked her out from midair.

She landed harshly on an angled rooftop, body sliding down quickly against the hard metal. The wind was knocked out of her, leaving her gasping as she scrambled for her yoyo. She aimed it for anywhere, anyplace that could give her proper footing.

But whatever had hit her only came at her again, knocking her into the uneven stone paneling of a roof deck. Her body ached from the landing, lungs throbbing for air. Something was sitting on her back, crushing her in place as her cheek pressed against the flooring. She tasted blood and her ears wouldn’t stop ringing. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably against her ribs.

She could have sworn she heard someone screaming from a distance.

“What are you doing?” Someone snarled.

_Oh_. She recognized that voice.

“Get off of me!” She twisted and struggled against him. The stupid cat that had caught her in his claws.

“Why are you transformed as Ladybug? I told you not to come back until you remembered!” 

He grabbed at her hair and slammed her head into the ground. Her ears rang louder, vision growing dark for a second. A flash of green. Something pooled around her temple.

“You--” she spat out blood. “You n-never told me anything.” It was  _agonizing_  to talk with the stone digging into her jaw and grinding against her bruising face. Tears pricked her eyes but she refused to shed them. “And even if--” she inhaled sharply as he forced her head harder against the ground. “Even  _if_ ,” she continued, “you had told me anything, I wouldn’t have listened  _anyway_ ,” she hissed. She tried to focus her glare on him, but her vision was spotting and she couldn’t quite find him.

He released his hold on her head, but refused to get off of her, digging his knees into her sides. “If you can’t help yourself, why would you even bother to pretend to be Ladybug?”

“Just because I forgot how to fight physically, doesn’t mean I can’t find a different way out of this,” she spat.

“I’m not talking about now.” He forced his way off of her, jumping back several meters. 

She sat up slowly, rubbing her jaw lightly, tenderly. As quickly as she could, she assessed the damage: minimal bleeding by her temple, a bit tongue, some scrapes, and she’d definitely have bruises by that night. Taking a deep breath, she heaved herself up into a standing position, hand resting over her yoyo.

“If you’re aren’t talking about fighting then what  _are_  you talking about, asshole?” She bit out.

“Getting testy now aren’t we, prey? Can’t say I’m fond of that new nickname you’ve given me.” 

His face was devoid of any emotion, eyes hollow. It was jarring, making her fidget and shift in place. Where had his stupid smirk gone? Was he serious this time?

There was something odd about him in the way he held his head, slightly tilted as if he were listening to something. He watched her with his cold stare, seeing her but...not. Then, his head jerked to the side like he was shaking it, lips moving to speak, but it was too quiet for her to hear.

Was he calling out his cataclysm?

She tensed. 

No.

He wouldn’t frighten her, not like this. She refused to squirm under his stare and quickly settled on one foot, ready to flee if necessary.

She glared daggers at him, wishing hard that it could actually do something to him. “Answer me already.”

He seemed to snap out of his trance then sniffed at her. “Have you remembered anything yet?”

Playing games with him was meaningless, she decided then. She was going to make this encounter as short as possible. “No.”

“There you have it then,” he said as he gestured at her. “A completely useless heroine.”

She dug her nails into her palm, biting back any retort she wanted to say. She was no longer scared of this stupid cat, oh no. She had had a bad week. Adrien had made sure of it.

“What. Do. You. Want.” She all but growls.

“I want Ladybug back.” 

And then he jumped over the rooftop and disappeared. 

* * *

 

“You’re clearly not going to remember anything on your own,” he said to her from behind as she made her way down the hallway. Her whole body jerked away when she realized who had just spoken to her.

She wasn’t sure what to say. He seemed to have gone back to his typical jerk-self and had gotten over whatever it was that had made him stop talking to her. She eyed him warily. “…What do you want?”

His stare was unnerving, eyes so intense she wanted to looked away. She could tell by the way they trailed down her face that he was looking over her bruises. Instead of the typical questions however, he simply smirked at her.

Nope. She was not having any of this. Not today. She turned on her heel and walked away.

Of course he caught up to her and gripped her arm, nails digging in as a warning. 

“Not so fast. It’s been half a year, I’m tired of waiting. I’m finishing this.”

The bell rang overhead as she watched him. 

Well. 

She was sick of this too. He was offering.

She eyed him some more.

Hm.

Might as well get this over with.

“What did you have in mind?”

* * *

 

Everything was dark, but it wasn’t scary. It was warm. Velvety fur brushed against her skin and warmth bloomed across her cheeks. Someone was calling out a name.

“Marinette!”

Her name.

When she opened her eyes, she saw green.


	5. Chapter 5

When the sewing didn’t go well, she found herself switching over to knitting. In between each lesson her parents taught, she took to the needles and began a pattern. For whatever reason, this had come easier to her.

It was relaxing, it felt familiar, and it made her happy. 

The yarn she had chosen this time was a nice baby blue. 

Soft material, like touching feathers. 

She loved it. 

* * *

 

She could feel his eyes on her, could see how his body was turned towards her from the corner of her eye. But she was stubborn and she refused to acknowledge him, instead focusing on her conversation with Alya. 

“–amazing actually. I mean, there have been next to no Akuma victims.”

“None,” she piped up. “At least none that I’ve seen,” she hurried on.

His eyes were burning holes into the fading bruise on her cheek, their heat blazing. After his decision to try and help her, she thought they would’ve been over this part of their relationship. To be frank, she was tired of it. 

While Alya listed a few theories she had come up with, she had shifted in her chair slightly, just enough to see him lean in closer. She frowned and turned back to the conversation.

“So, what do you think?”

She froze. Oops. Of course she hadn’t paid attention, of course she hadn’t heard her, and now because of him she had missed out on what Alya had been saying, thus making it obvious that she had not in fact been listening but instead had been too busy with ignoring him to pay attention to Alya, which only made it more obvious that she had  _ actually _  been paying attention to Adrien and not her friend sitting  _ right beside her! _

_ Dammit! _

“Um, could you repeat the last one again? I don’t think I caught everything,” she offered, hoping it would be enough.

“Oh, right. Yeah, I’ll admit it’s not my best but let me try and clarify a little…”

She flickered her gaze over to him and glared hard before looking back at her friend, all the while pretending she didn’t care what his reaction had been. Hopefully it was enough to stop his damn  _ staring _ .

Someone cleared their throat and she looked over, unthinking.

Of course it had been him ( _ again _ ), who else could it have been?

She frowned at him again, but instead of returning it he simply smiled at her.

Smiled.

His face was kind and open, lips curved up in the most genuine smile she had seen on him. Not a smirk, not a grin, no smugness about it. And his  _ eyes.  _ They were so soft, crinkling at the corners with such sincere happiness, she could feel the warmth radiating from him.

It took her breath away and she couldn’t help but openly stare, eyes comically wide.

_ So this is what the girl had seen in him. _

At her expression, he laughed. Small. Jerky. But  _ happy. _  Not at all like what she’d heard before when she’d called him out for his behavior.

For the first time in awhile, she wondered what he had been like before the girl had gone. Maybe he really had been pleasant. Maybe even friendly.

There was a pang in her chest and she couldn’t help the thoughts racing through her mind. She wished she could remember this boy in front of her.

But the moment passed all too soon and he was back to the worn stare, sunken eyes, and downturned mouth. He tilted his head to the side like he was waiting for something. She opened her mouth to say something, to bring that boy back, but nothing came out. 

What exactly could she say to a boy who didn’t want to listen to  _ her? _

“Marinette?”

She turned towards Alya.

Maybe ignoring him had been the better option after all.

* * *

 

She hadn’t realized she’d finished the scarf until her thumb brushed over the ending stitches. Looking down in confusion, she rubbed her thumb over it again, feeling an odd, uneven pattern. 

Her eyebrows furrowed.

She brought the end closer to her face, inspecting it more. 

Huh.

Marinette stared back at her.

Marinette as in the name.

Marinette as in the name she had grown used to writing on the top of all her homework.

Marinette as in the name she had seen stitched into the derby hat Adrien had shown her, in the same handwriting.

And there it was, embroidered in a matching shade of blue in neat, cursive letters. She hadn’t even realized she could embroider.

Hm.

* * *

 

She wasn’t scared. She refused to be.

So what if Chat Blanc had hurt her? So what if he had bruised her and made her bleed a little? So what?

Sure she hadn’t transformed for a week, give or take a few days, but that was mostly to regain her composure, to let her injuries heal. He  _ had _ given her quite a beating. And if she was being completely honest, like  _ completely _ honest, she could handle the aches and pains just fine. She would just have to train more, improve her fighting skills. Maybe she could use lucky charm next time and use her smarts to get out of fighting him entirely.

Besides, sometimes her heart still gave her problems when she exerted too much energy. So, she’d just have to get better. Simple. Easy.

But still.

She wasn’t afraid of him. 

He had been Ladybug’s  _ partner _ at some point for goodness sake! He had helped her, been the one who got her through the toughest situations, the one who had had her back. She’d seen the videos of him, the ones where he’s laughing and making the dumbest puns. He had been so goofy, a total dork.

He was an asshole now, obviously, but that was beside the point. It wasn’t entirely his fault for getting himself Akumatized. Hawkmoth shared at least half the blame. But no matter how much she disliked him right now, she had to ignore her feelings and focus on her obligations as Ladybug. She had a job to do. 

No.

She wasn’t afraid of him.

She was afraid  _ for _ him.

And she needed to help him  _ soon _ .

* * *

 

The sun had set several hours ago and she couldn’t go to sleep for the life of her. 

She spun around in her desk chair, keeping as quiet as humanly possible. Her feet were covered in her fuzziest pair of socks to mute the sounds of them tapping on each spin, fingers gripping the side of the chair to prevent herself from falling over.

The scarf was draped over the umbrella on her chaise, it’s bright blue catching her eye in the dim lighting. She made her way towards it and studied the embroidery again. It was so weird. Of all things her body had decided to keep, it had been this. She rubbed her thumb over it in thought.

“Hey, Tikki?” She called.

The Kwami hadn’t gone to bed yet for some reason, deciding to just watch her from the railing in a lazy kind of way. But her head perked up at her name and she came zipping down, planting herself on her shoulder. “Yes, Marinette?”

“Could she embroider?”

It had been awhile since she had asked a question about the girl, but she could still feel Tikki stiffening beside her. Her friend had never really gotten used to the way she referred to the girl. Always asking about her as if she was someone else. And, in a way, she was. After all, if she doesn’t have the memories of the girl, how could she be the same person?

It took some time for her friend to respond, but eventually she replied in a quiet voice. “Yes.”

It had become this weird habit of hers where she couldn’t stop touching the stitching at the edge of the scarf. Something about it just felt so familiar. Which made sense, considering, but it still felt  _ weird _ .

“Huh,” she said, noncommittally. 

* * *

 

She wore it to school, wrapped loosely around her neck. The soft yarn tickled at the back of her neck, a little scratchy, but it was okay because it kept her warm. And it was winter, anyway. Clothes are supposed to be a little scratchy around this time.

When she stepped into the class as quietly as possible (she was late again, unsurprisingly) he was watching her, eyes trained on the swaying ends of her scarf. She touched it self-consciously before taking her seat.

he didn’t turn around for the rest of the day, leaving her confused and somewhat relieved.

She wound the scarf tighter around herself.

* * *

 

The bruises had completely healed now, not even a trace of yellow left on her skin. Tikki hadn’t liked the idea of transforming so soon, but lately the Kwami hadn’t seemed to like much of anything she had to offer. For now, she ignored her friends concern and decided enough was enough.

She swung from rooftops recklessly in hopes of getting the stupid cat’s attention, flinging her yo-yo in random directions. At least she had gotten better at navigating.

And landing, too. 

Kind of.

There hadn’t been a chance to test out lucky charm though, and at that point she was considering making a mess herself just to use the stupid power. She huffed.

Why hadn’t he shown up yet?

She threw the yo-yo again and aimed for a higher rooftop to avoid the people looking up at her. She was surprised the paparazzi hadn’t tried talking to her yet. Ah, but then again, she hadn’t really given them the chance.

And she wouldn't for awhile, she decided.

Her muscles burned and her chest was aching, she couldn’t keep this up. She cursed under her breath.

_ Where was he, dammit? _

She landed on the ledge of a building and kicked angrily at the stone. 

This wasn’t working!

* * *

 

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, making loud thumping noises as they hit the floor, a faint panting coming with them. Before she could think to stop herself, she turned around quickly and took on a defensive pose, fists raised.

His hair flew out in every direction as he made his way towards her, hands holding his bag against his hip. His eyes had a desperate look to them, wide and determined. The behavior was weird, even for him, but she couldn’t help but feel at least a  _ little _ relieved.

Her shoulders sagged. It was only him.

_ Wait. _

She brought her hands buck up. Okay, sure she thought of him as a friend now, but that didn’t mean he didn’t get under skin, and that especially didn’t mean she couldn’t hit him when he was being particularly weird (like running towards her down an empty hallway like she was going to die if he didn’t reach her within the next two seconds) every now and then.

When he reached her, he doubled over, puffing and wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. His hands gripped his knees so hard she she felt as if she could feel the bruises forming herself. That gasping noise he was making really didn’t sound too healthy either.

“Are--Um, are you okay?” She asked hesitantly, lowering her fists.

“Just,” he wheezed. “Just give me a minute.”

She took a step back to give him space, waving her hands all the while to give him some wind. “Do you need some water?”

“No.”

“Alright, then…”

She watched him as he recovered, his breathing coming to a more reasonable pace. The grip he had on his knees loosened before he finally straightened himself up. Sweat trickled down his forehead, making his bangs stick to his skin. Honestly, he looked like a mess.

“Seriously, are you okay?” She asked again, concerned for his wellbeing and somewhat annoyed for being concerned about his wellbeing.

“Great.”

She rolled her eyes. Why did she even bother?

“I thought models were supposed to be fit?”

He gave her a look. She smiled sweetly at him in return. 

“I just ran here from my house, Princess” he spat out. She bristled at the nickname, that annoying tickling feeling returning. “Believe it or not, but running that distance in under ten minutes could wind anybody. Even Ladybug,” he said sharply. 

She glared at him. “And why in the world would you do that? Don’t you have a driver?”

“Something came up,” he waved off. “And besides, I think I have something that could  _ finally _ do something.”

That peaked her interest. “What?”

He rummaged through his bag, taking his sweet time, elbows deep in his search. “I hadn’t realized it was something connected to  _ you _ ,” he said, still searching, “Until you wore that scarf the other day.” Whatever it was he was looking for, he didn’t really seem to take good care of it if it was buried all the way at the bottom, she thought. “I thought it had been a gift from my father but,” he barked out a laugh, eyes darkening. His hands stopped for a moment. “Well, that was stupid of me anyway.”

His eyes lit up when he seemed to have found it. With a quick yank, a blue scarf came free from his bag, dragging out a few crumpled papers and a highlighter.

“This,” he said handing it over. “ _ You _ made this. Marinette, anyway,” he added that last part on as if it were an afterthought.

She took it from him, suddenly nervous. None of the other things had worked. The hat hadn’t, his smile hadn’t, why would  _ this _ be the one to fix everything? What about this scarf had made him so desperate to for her to see he came running over to the school?

She turned it around in her hands, feeling the material, the softness of it, the texture. It had the exact same pattern, and it was the exact same color, the exact same  _ yarn _ . She looked up at him, amazed. “She--I mean,  _ I _ had really made this?” 

Before he could answer, she searched for one of the ends and brushed it with her fingers. There. She brought it up to her face, to confirm what she had felt. 

Marinette stared back at her.

Marinette as in the name.

* * *

 

The world was white now. Loud, shrieking noises pierced her ears. But none of it really seemed to reach her, none of it mattered.

He was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't looked over this chapter in a couple of months so sorry if its worse than the others
> 
> anyway two more chapters until this thing is finally over lol


	6. Chapter 6

“Tikki!” She practically screamed. “Tikki, please!”

The Kwami came flying out of her hiding place by her hip, frantically making her way towards her. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter? Is everything alright? Are you okay, Marinette?”

“Tikki, the scarf was exactly the same. Exactly. The. _Same_ ,” she hissed through her teeth. Her knuckles turned white as she grabbed at her hair, pulling locks from her pigtails.

It felt as if the whole world was crashing down on her, like everything was caving in and she had so little room to breathe. She took in large, gasping breaths, trying to bring as much air into her lungs as possible.

She had run.

She hadn’t even bothered to look at his face, hadn’t bothered to see his expression, just put one leg in front of her, then another, and suddenly she wasn’t in the school anymore. She couldn’t even remember leaving the building.

Her body was shaking, goosebumps rising to her skin, yet an entire sheen of sweat coated her body. She wobbled her way to her chaise, legs unable to support her weight anymore.

She collapsed.

There was a buzzing in her ear, like something was trying to get out of her head, but she didn’t know what. She shook her head to try and stop it. Were the girls memories finally coming back? Was she remembering who she had been?

She clamped her hands over her ears, rocking herself back and forth. It wouldn’t stop, it wouldn’t go away! Nothing new--old, whatever--was coming to her mind. Why wouldn’t the ringing stop? She ground her teeth. Fuzzy images flashed through her head, too quick to make any sense of. Spots of color, blips of sound. But nothing she could hold onto. It was like trying to grasp water. She nearly fell over as if the world was a chair and it had unexpectedly lost a leg.

She needed to stop this, to make it go away. “Tikki, please,” she begged.

The Kwami hugged her shoulder, rubbing little circles on her back. “What do you want me to do, Marinette?”

An idea flashed through her mind, she shut her eyes.

“I need to see my diary.”

The world was spinning, colors mixing into one another, sounds melting into nothing. Gravity pushed her sideways and she fell down.

Down, down down.

* * *

 

Her head hurt. Everything hurt really. But especially her head.

Her muscles were sore from flinging herself over rooftops, overworking themselves as she felt them stretch and move all throughout her back and shoulders. Springing off a lamplight, her teeth felt loose from all her rough landings and movements, knees and ankles aching in protest. And not only did she have to deal with those nuisances, her head also hurt from the killer migraine that decided to befriend her ( _intimately_ she considered) on this particular outing.

But she needed to move, needed to escape.

She wasn’t sure what from.

_What am I doing here?_

A stabbing pain cut it’s way through her head and she nearly shrieked.

Seriously, why would she have done this with such a splitting headache?

She doesn’t even remember transforming.

She threw her yo-yo angrily. What the hell was she _doing_ out here, dammit?

God, her chest felt as if it had been ripped open.

She landed on the rooftop of some random hotel and slammed her yo-yo onto the ground, unable to take anymore of this. Her body refused to hold her up and she came slamming into the tiling, but that was fine she decided. She curled herself up into a ball and let herself take the deep breaths she deserved.

Something cracked several meters away and her head snapped up.

“What do you want?” She groaned, forcing her tired body into a standing position after snatching up her yo-yo. “Dammit, why’d you have to come now?”

Oh no. Standing had not been a good idea.

“What a warm greeting, prey,” he sneered. “It’s nice to know you missed me.”

“Just answer the question,” she ground out.

It felt like everything was tilting sideways, her body suddenly lurching forward. Her arms flailed widely for something to grab, but nothing but air greeted her. She stumbled, foot stepping forward, only _just_ catching her fall.

There were two Chat Blancs standing in front of her now, weaving in and out of her vision. She clamped a hand over her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “Stop moving,” she murmured.

“I’m not.”

She opened her eyes at that, looking up and noting that he still stood a good distance away from her. Yet, his body (bodies?) was swaying from side to side, blurring around the edges. Shaking her head, she sank to her knees.

“Can’t you just leave me alone for the day? I don’t think I can handle another fight.” She paused, considering it for a moment. “I’d still beat you though,” she added. If it came to it, she would do it. She’d have to.

She froze.

He was still Akumatized.

She had to fix that.

Grinding her teeth, she forced herself back up into a standing position. For now, her headache or whatever it was was not important, she needed to save him.

_Damn that stupid cat!_

He watched her as she struggled back to her feet, keeping his distance. Why in the world hadn’t he taken the opportunity to attack? She eyed him, studied the relaxed way he stood. The only sign of tension was in the way his shoulders hunched forward.

She took a step forward--

“Do you remember yet?”

\--and she stopped.

He asked her this question every time they’d met and to be frank, she was sick of it. How did he even know she had forgotten her memories? It wasn’t like he knew her citizen form.

She stopped.

No, no.

No.

She wouldn’t think about that, not right now. It was better to go with the simpler question.

“How do you even know about that?” Much better.

“I know everything.”

She glared. This was easier to think about she decided. “That’s what you said last time!” And she remembered last time, remembered the way he had stared at her then, a hard expression settled over his face. His eyes had felt as if they were piercing right through her.

He ignored her. “Do you remember or not?”

She looked at him, wondering what she should say. If she said yes, she’d be lying and he’d probably find out. Or he’d take her word for it and start attacking her. If she said no, he would get angry, probably yell at her, and _then_ he’d start attacking her. Ugh, she really didn’t want to fight. Her head pounded and she swore she was going to blackout in the next few minutes. His body refused to merge back into one, which meant that probably wasn’t a good sign for her.

She took a step back, hand gripping her yo-yo.

But.

She needed to help him.

“Well?” He shouted impatiently.

Okay, no. She had her limits. She knew she did, but she still wanted to help. But right now, her body was too much of a hinderance. She wouldn’t be able to do any good like this.

She bit her lip, taking another step back. Even if--if!--he did know her civilian-self, it wasn’t like he had visited her in the night and tried to kill her. If she escaped right now, she’d probably be safe until the next encounter. She’d most likely be in better shape too. She took another step back.

His body blurred and then he wasn’t standing in front of her anymore. She yelped. Something gripped her arms hard, keeping her there. Sharp nails dug into her suit.

Oh.

It was him.

_Shit!_

She tried to yank away from his hands, tried to throw her head back to hit him in the jaw, but apparently doing even that much was _too_ much. Her vision darkened, knees giving out, but she didn’t hit the ground. His tight hold on her kept her in the air.

It felt like her arms were being crushed, cracking and breaking from the pressure. Her head sagged forward. Why was she so weak? Angry tears rushed to her eyes, but they just made everything ache.

God, her chest _hurt_.

Why wasn’t he saying anything? Wasn’t this usually where the villain showed signs of having a little compassion or at the very least, _curiosity_. He should’ve been asking why the hero was so weak or whatever.

“Let go of me,” she hissed.

“Not until you answer my question.”

“At least let me sit.”

_This asshole._

His grip tightened around her for a minute before he lowered her to the ground, letting her adjust herself so she could sit criss-cross. However, he kept a hand on her shoulder, squeezing her collarbone uncomfortably.

At least the world had decided to stop spinning. Unfortunately, his twin continued to sway in the corner of her vision. She tried to blink it away, but it only made it worse.

“God, why are you such a jerk?” She looked up at him, not even bothering to hide the disdain on her face.

He grinned at her.

Well.

She hadn’t been expecting _that_.

“Do you always wear your heart on your sleeve?” He quipped.

Huffing, she answered. “Only when people like you deserve it.” She crossed her arms for extra measure, ignoring the sharp sting of his claws. Everything leaned sideways for a second, but she managed to stayed put.

“People like me?”

“Assholes,” she answered.

He barked out a laugh and she jerked back in surprise. She hissed as his claws dug tighter into her shoulder.

“You sure don’t tiptoe around my feelings.”

Something about that phrasing made her freeze. She had heard that before. Somewhere. She look back up at him, studying his face. He had a straight nose, sharp jawline. It looked vaguely familiar, but for whatever reason she couldn’t place it.

He was so close, she realized. His body was leaning forward so he could keep his hand on her. She could see the different tints of red in his eyes, how his iris darkened as it neared the pupil.

They had been green at some point.

Her head pounded sharply.

She tried to imagine them green, wincing through the pain.

“What, no reply?”

The world faltered.

She remembered. The conversation she had had with Adrien so many months ago.

“Why do you have to be such a prick?” She croaked out, echoing the words she had said all that time ago.

And then she realized. He did know her civilian-self.

And she knew his.

His eyes focused on her intensely, pupils shrinking into slits. He stared at her as he licked his lips. He released her before crouching in front of her, a faint ache left behind on her shoulder.

“Princess?”

The world went black.

* * *

 

“Ladybug,” he begged. “Please.”

She blinked down at him, red eyes looking up at her desperately. Her hands were clamped around his throat. Her breath hitched.

What was she doing?!

His hands gripped at hers, keeping her in place so she couldn’t stop herself. Tears were falling down her cheeks, landing on his face with tiny splashes. When had she started crying?

“Chat?” She rasped. “What’s happening?”

“Destroy the bell,” he answered.

Her hands were shaking when she reached for it, fingers wrapping around it weakly. She tugged. It popped off.

“Hurry,” he pleaded.

She held it in her hand, lifted it high above her head, and smashed in into the ground.

A butterfly came out, wings fluttering frantically.

Her mind scrambled for directions. What was she supposed to do again?

“Yo-yo.”

Her hand flew to her hip, taking the yo-yo. She aimed it for the butterfly and it caught it.

When she tapped the center, wings like soft cotton expanded into the wind and then it was flying.

The words came pouring from her mouth before she even thought to ask. “Bye bye little butterfly.”

A light pressure squeezed her wrists and she looked down, seeing him lying beneath her. His breathing was rough and shaky and he was coughing harshly, but he was smiling at her, the sides of his masked crinkling.

“You know the rest,” he whispered.

And she did.

Like before, the words came to her and just like that, it was Chat Noir looking up at her, eyes as green and lovely as life itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, there's only one more chapter after this and you guys may or may not hate me for how it plays out (sorry)
> 
> i still have one more part i need to finish for it so.....it could be another month...or 6.....or 12...............................askdjhaksljd


	7. Chapter 7

Marinette sat up with an ache in her heart and a stinging sensation on chest. Her breath was labored, rattling and sharp. Muscles screamed with a hollow pain she couldn’t describe, an aching so ancient it felt deeper than her bones.

Beside her she heard something metallic.

She turned her head too sharply with her panic, her neck feeling as if it had caught fire as heat pulsed up and down her spine. Trying to sooth it with her shaking hand, she peered carefully over to what made the noise and stilled.

The world around her was in shambles, entire streets and buildings reduced to rubble and debris. Overhead, the sky hung low and heavy, an ugly, dark gray replacing the normally brilliant blue.

In the middle of all the gray and devastation was her partner.

_Chat._

He sat hunched over, hands clasped so tightly she worried they would break from his own strength. His tail flicked with agitation, ears pressed flat against matted hair she knew was a warm, honey blonde beneath all the grime.

Her voice cracked, gravelly and strained when she tried to say his name. “Chat,” she forced out with barely a whisper. She licked her lips and found that they were covered in ash and blood from a split down the center. Why did her teeth feel like they were rattling in her skull?

His ears shot straight up, twitching towards her direction. He looked up at her with such big, round eyes flooding with relief and joy and so many other emotions she almost choked. The emotions flickering over his face took the air from Marinette’s lungs. What had happened?

She moved as if to get closer to him and found her hand brushing ash. A pink journal, burnt and crumbling by the minute. On the sheets of loose paper, sketches of flowing dresses in various colors and tight, dramatic heels decorated the plain, white surface of the paper.

Her eyebrows scrunched together as she studied the designs.

These were hers.

Her hand shot to her mouth as she turned back to Chat, not quite believing her eyes. He watched her quietly, letting her take it all in for herself. His silence answered every question swimming through her head.

The tears came without her permission. Her body hunched as if to sob, the realization suddenly hitting her all at once. How could she have let this happen? After everything they’d been through, she knew better! And yet, _Marinette_ had let this happen, she had gotten herself _akumatized_.

“Marinette,” Chat called out gently.

She shook her head, repeatedly. _No, no, no, no, no!_

“Marinette.” His voice was closer this time, the black of his suit taking over her blurry vision. He went to reach for her, but his hands were still clasped.

“What--What happened, Chat?” Her voice sounded wobbly and pathetic even to her own ears.

“It doesn’t matter what happened,” he said soothingly. “What matters is you’re back now.”

Marinette glared at the cracked stones lying beneath her, hot tears slipping down her face. _Doesn’t matter?_ She had let Hawkmoth into her head, had let him get to her! She was Ladybug, she should have never let that happen in the first place. She was supposed to be stronger than that! It was _all_ her fault.

“It doesn’t matter?” Marinette’s voice cracked violently. She took a deep breath and looked up. “I got _akumatized_ ,” she whispered. “I did this!” She threw her arm out, ignoring the agony of her screaming muscles, and gestured to the crumbling remains of Paris.

Her partner shook his head. “No, Princess. You didn’t.”

She looked at him disbelievingly.

“It wasn’t _only_ you,” he said with vehemence.  “Hawkmoth did this too--”

A blur of red flew into view, colliding with her face, a squeaky voice coming from it. “Marinette!”

And suddenly Marinette recognized the voice.

“Tikki?”

Said kwami snuggled into her cheek, the warmth of her spreading through the dampness of Marinette’s face. “Marinette! Marinette, I’m so glad you back! And safe and okay!” The Kwami rubbed her cheek against Marinette’s with every word before pulling away. “But we need to take care of things first,” she finished gently, eyes serious.

Marinette looked down at the small Kwami. Fix things...?

Yes…

Yes!

A wash of relief came over her, closing her throat with a completely new set of tears. Yes, of course. They could fix things. They could fix this first. Her chin shook as she held back her jumbled emotions, attempting to take a deep breath.

Shakily, she nodded her head and wiped her eyes quickly. There was no time to panic and feel sorry for herself. No time for guilt. That could wait till later.

“You’re right.”

She glanced over at Chat Noir, remembering his presence and froze. What should she do? She couldn’t hide this now. But...no. That wasn’t important at the moment. Not now.

_Save it for_ later.

He simply watched her, knotted hair sticking to his drying face. And just like that, it hit her just how exhausted he looked, the way he tucked his elbows into his sides, how his chest heaved with every breath, the bruises and scrapes littering his face. Not even his mask could hide the deep lines forming under his eyes.

He nodded at her. “Go ahead,” he said.

Swallowing, she nodded. _Later, later, later._

“Tikki, spots on!”

The rush of the transformation consumed her, filled her sore body with a familiar energy so warm and light and comforting, Marinette felt her whole body sigh. Magic danced across her skin, flowing over her limbs with light and sparks bright like summer stars. Spinning with a rhythm so old and familiar, it felt as if the whole world lived beneath her skin, buried deep within the blood and tissue of her heart.

Chat watched her with shining eyes, mouth parted slightly. She wanted to apologize for everything, for allowing herself to become a victim, for revealing her identity in such a way, for lying about who she was, for being herself.

But it had to wait.

_Don’t think about it right now._

In front of her, Chat offered his hands, still clasped tightly.

and then it clicked.

Releasing the tainted butterfly, Chat’s hands uncurled gently as the frantic bug beat its wings. She tossed her yo-yo with a familiar ease, her muscles relaxing with the natural rhythm. With a single tap, the butterfly fluttered its newly cleansed wings, becoming a spot of light against the dim sky.

“Bye-bye little butterfly,” she whispered, watching her butterfly leave her. Because it had been hers, for a time at least.

She couldn’t say she would miss it.

Dark arms clasped her shoulders and she felt something soft brush against her neck. Behind her, her partner shook with unshed tears. “I missed you so much,” he whispered.

And once again the tears came back. Ladybug rested a shaky hand over his arm as a trembling smile made its home across her face.

“Me too.”

With little force, she tossed her yo-yo into the air, watching as the cleaning magic rushed out over Paris in a wave of light and newness. It’s bright glow settled over her face.

“Miraculous Ladybug,” she breathed.

* * *

 

It was the soft beeping that drew her attention back to reality, undoing the quiet magic of the comforting feeling of her partner’s arms around her shoulders and his warmth against her back.

Cool shadows enveloped the two of them in the alleyway of a line of closed boutiques. Turning, Ladybug caught him taking a step back into a sliver of light, face illuminated by the rising sunlight. He watched her with intense eyes, still wet and shiney from unshed tears. They flickered across her face as if searching for an answer.

Swallowing hard, she gave him a shaky nod.

He was ready.

And so was she.

Closing his eyes, Chat Noir’s costume vanished behind a chaotic swirl of flickering green sparks and black energy. Rays of blinding light crackled like lightning as his transformation whirled around him before finally coming to an end.

In an instant, he had changed from an old friend--a hero--to--

She gasped.

Green eyes looked back at her, then a small flicker of a smile.

“Hi,” he whispered.

A rush of pink flooded her vision, and like that, she was just a girl again. No longer a hero, but a girl, just Marinette.

And there she stood in front of the most amazing person she’d ever known, the person she’d given her heart to so many years ago, the person she’d risked her life for and who had done the same for her, just a boy.

Adrien.

“Hi,” she whispered back.

* * *

 

He was sitting in front of her a month later, shoes by the bed and jacket hanging over the edge of a chair somewhere. He had the same shade of blonde hair, the same warmth in his kind, green eyes, the same smile. And when he smiled, _really_ smiled, with all the joy tucked in the corners of his lips and mirth in his cheeks, it was almost like she was seeing double.

Chat Noir, her best friend and partner, lay with her in her own bedroom, on her own bed, black leather and adrenaline left back at home.

Adrien Agreste.

This whole time, that was who he had been.

The boy who sat in front of her during class, the boy who was sweet, kind, quiet, gentle, the boy who she had loved with all her heart for so long now.

The boy who turned bitter, the boy who helped her with cruel determination, the boy who never hurt Marinette as a villain, the boy who had begged to be saved.

The boy who never truly existed to begin with.

Sometimes, even after all this time, she found herself lost in a hazy fog where she couldn’t quite determine what was real and what wasn’t. Sometimes, she still found herself wondering what ever happened to the girl, only to remember that she had been herself the whole time.

Marinette turned her head towards him, towards Adrien, and watched. “Hey Kitty,” she whispered.

He looked over at her, eyes soft. “Hm?”

She loved the warmth of him, how it seemed to hold her in place and cradle her. If she closed her eyes right then, warm golden rays of sunlight would be hitting her face through her skylight rather than the silver wisps of moonlight.

A thumb brushed her cheek and she blinked her eyes open. His eyes crinkled in a familiar way that still felt so new on his unmasked face. Marinette’s lips tugged at the odd mix of feelings it gave her.

“Was it really only five days?” She finally asked.

His thumb stroked her cheek in thought, slow and lazy.

“Yeah,” he said, voice unsteady.

Marinette nodded, letting it sink again for what felt like the hundredth time. No matter how many times she heard his side of the story, it still felt unreal. After all, she had no memories of being an akuma. It was almost ironic in a way. No memories of this world and all of them from the other.

She looked back up at him, taking refuge in his gaze. “You were a real asshole in my nightmare.”

He laughed at that, gentle chuckles entwining with loud laughter. As time passed, both Adrien and Chat began melting into each other, becoming a single person in her mind. A friend. Something more.

Wrapping her arms around his middle, she pulled him closer towards her, hands making their homes between his shoulder blades. His arms slid around her shoulders easily, palms hot where they rested.

It felt nice, this felt nice.

Her body shook with his laughter and her own, happiness and peace and comfort and so, so, so much more bubbling through her body and spilling past her lips.

For the first time in a long time she felt like she was home.

For the first time in a long time, she felt like Marinette again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there it is! the end! it feels a little lack luster but i've been sitting on it for months and i really don't know how else to extend it or make it more satisfying. maybe i'll write an epilogue if something ever comes to mind, but for now it's the end.
> 
> and so this whole time mari was the akuma and she'd just been living in her own world as hawkmoth possessed her. kinda lame in the end but akdjhalksjdhkasjd. i like to think she'd be able to remember parts of being an akuma because she has a miraculous of her own and isn't your typical un-miraculoused-citizen? just a headcanon *shrug*
> 
> anyway, this is the first ever multi chapter fic i've ever finished so it's a bit of a weird feeling. i'm just glad i managed to end it finally, haha. thanks for reading it and making it to the end! i really appreciate everyone's reviews, and i'm so happy you guys like it despite it's flaws haha
> 
> until next time i guess ^^

**Author's Note:**

> here's where i make excuses and try to defend the first chapter lol:
> 
> okay so this is actually the first fic i started writing for ml, so my writing is definitely a little rusty here. also, keep in mind, i started this thing back before the first season was even half way through....so. yep. anyway i tried to salvage it as best i could but decided 'fuck it' and just soldiered through to the rest. anyway it only gets better from here (hopefully)


End file.
